[And now it's finally Carol's turn...]
Demands? How about: Just shut up and make me come so hard I forget my name again?
That would be a pretty solid demand. The thought zipped through Carol's mind but remained there, fully entrenched in the muck that was her fear and distrust and unfamiliarity at such a possibility. She hadn't really been allowed to speak much before. Men didn't like that so much, at least not the sad sacks she had been saddled with over the years. They liked to call the shots, to make her theirs. Castor of course had been the worst but as always, she had wilfully pushed Beverly's disgust aside and tried to force herself into the belief that it was just passion, that a normal relationship consisted of him telling her to shut up, covering her mouth during sex, refusing to allow eye contact, never showing any intimacy whatsoever.
And then Helen came along and it was the complete opposite of Castor. Like, total complete opposite. Way too much in the other direction. Attention constantly, kindness, intimacy, love? –so much so soon. There was a present-ness, a pushiness in Helen's approach to relationships. She was there, in your face, giving you attention and love and wanting you to be around all the time, to share everything right away. Like living in a lesbian pressure cooker with a tablespoon of insane jealousy. With Castor and Merc and Ed and every other boss-slash-asshole in her repertoire, there had been a vast expanse of distance between them. The air was thin, and she took every long, fresh breath completely alone. It was windy and desolate there. Dry. Cold. Like a Mongolian plateau or something. Somewhere Asian-y. Sure, she had a beautiful landscape to stare into, but she never actually got anywhere. It was the same in every direction and she was left only with the dust for comfort. Fuck, it was a lot like the Mojave really.
Being with Helen was like the Amazon rainforest instead. The tropics. Hot, and wet, and poking her from every side as she tried to make her way through the dense tangle, pouring down on her randomly and so humid she could barely breathe, leaving her lost and suffocating. She never knew what she'd find under every leaf, if it would be a gorgeous flower or a horrible venomous insect.
If the men were the Californian desert, Helen was L.A. under a bad smog warning.
All she wanted was… whatever was in between Mongolia and Brazil. Someplace nice and gentle and with air to breathe, but not too much. And now, technically speaking, she was in a position to demand exactly that and see what happens.
Maybe that was happening. She wouldn't be sure for a while yet. Helen was both horribly predictable and yet completely unpredictable in other ways.
Instead she had the older woman staring at her, waiting for some sort of a request. Just don't hurt me again. I'm not as strong and smart as you think I am. That was an idea but it was too vulnerable and she certainly wasn't willing to trust Helen with that yet. Let me breathe this time around. Again, that wouldn't be escaping the delicate prison of her lips.
She had no other demands. "I'm done."
"Done?" She could tell Helen was a little bit disappointed that nothing more salacious slid from her mouth. She hated being a disappointment but there was no way she'd start some sort of dirty sexy talk at this point. It took a certain type of person to pull that without bursting out into laughter. Helen probably could, with her voice, the lowness of its timbre, the way she could get that dangerous gleam in her eye that sent all sorts of warning signals and warm tingles down Carol's spine. Yeah, Helen could totally do it.
There was a lot of lying in Carol's life. Like, a lot. It was basically her whole life. But she never would lie to herself about her own voice and its inability to be anything close to sensual. She'd tried, over and over. Most of the time it was about as efficient as flinging a dead rat against a wall. Not so much with the sexiness, and more of a huge flop.
"Okay, maybe not done done. There's one more thing."
"Shoot." Helen sounded airily relaxed and comfortable and it made Carol tingle just slightly with jealousy. She wasn't supposed to be so composed and cocky in this situation. It was meant to be the other way around, right? The person that is doing the demanding is supposed to feel in control and strong and all those things Carol was fairly sure she'd never felt in her entire life. That wasn't right. There was only one thing left after the obviously reluctant apologies to make Helen actually uncomfortable. And granted, Carol just really wanted to hear the words, but more so, she wanted to see legitimate groveling.
"Tell me," she said simply.
There was a shake of brown hair as Helen attempted to understand the command. Her eyes seemed to be searching for some semblance of a hint on Carol's thankfully impassive face. When nothing appeared, brown eyes latched onto hers with a spark of warning. Good. That is exactly what Carol wanted to see because at least that meant she was getting close. A thin smile stretched over her lips as she watched Helen debate with her own mind.
She relented eventually. "Tell you what?"
A blasé shrug was the perfect accessory to this conversation and Carol wore it well. "You know. How you feel." Since you love talking about it so much, she added.
Helen looked down at her bare lap, pulling the hem of her t-shirt to cover herself slightly more modestly. She was getting uncomfortable, even a little self-conscious. It was definitely a good sign. "How I feel," Helen repeated, assessing the damage that could do. "Is this an open-ended question, or did you have something specific in mind?" The thing about Helen Basch was that she enjoyed boundaries very much, especially other people's. Limits gave her peace of mind, and an idea where she could push things if ever she needed to go beyond them, a sense of control and expectation. Her own gave her a sense of protection. Carol knew that much at least.
"Oh, I have something in mind." Her voice was taking on that smarmy sort of amusement and she made a note to dial it back. It would never work if Helen knew how much Carol was actually enjoying making her squirm.
That was it. Helen narrowed her eyes, a hint of frustration or anger slicing across her face. She was not enjoying this task and Carol waited patiently, forcing the smile back. There was the sound of a long, heavy sigh and Helen's shoulders visibly sagged. Her eyes darted around for a moment, searching for something, before settling at last on Carol.
"Okay, well, other than the birth of my kids, getting to know you—and I mean really getting to know you: all those silly chats over Chinese take-out and late night talks in bed—was one of the happiest two weeks of my life."
Carol recognized the pang of longing in her chest. Those days had been her happiest ever. Like, ever. She'd never had a relationship that she was literally happy for days straight and felt it all being reflected back at her as well.
"I wanted it—you for so long and then you were there, with me. It was hard to believe. I felt so lucky. You really have no idea, do you?" At first her question came out slightly insulted but her demeanor softened quickly at Carol's look of warning and she let a slight, embarrassed chuckle slip out. "Of course not. Because a week later my over-exuberance and enthusiasm turned… into—look, I know it scared you. That I scared you. That it was too much for you and I get that now, I do. But I'm not afraid of feeling really intense shit and I'm not afraid of showing it. If I want something, I say it. If I'm happy, you'll know it and maybe go overboard. If I'm excited, I show it. If I'm pissed off, then hell yeah, you know that too." She paused, looking down for a moment to her hands. "I got ahead of myself and way ahead of you and it scared you but I just don't get not talking, okay? I don't! I'm sorry, I just don't. You do this thing where you just agree and smile and giggle and stuff all your real feelings so far inside you and that just makes no fucking sense to me, you know? There are times that I don't know how to talk to you when you don't talk. And when people don't talk, they're usually hiding something bad. I was fucking scared too."
Carol knew most of this to be true. She did pretend grimaces were actually smiles and push down her feelings, usually so deep that she could barely remember what they were. They just begin to feel like a big ball of lead (or dread) in her stomach. And this was exceptionally common when she really, really wanted to please someone. She was afraid of talking about real things because L.A. is not real and she's not allowed to be either. It's not full of real people with honest jobs. It's all plastic bodies and strained smiles and overloaded ego and running line after line until conversation becomes nothing more than a bunch of useless noise meant to impress a bunch of other noise-making machines. Not her slice of it anyway. It's stock full of liars and fakes all masquerading around for some weird reason to get something none of them even know. It generally wasn't encouraged to be looking into truth, whatever the fuck that even was. Usually that was pretty ugly if it even existed. Ew.
"I'm sorry, Scrunchie." It looked as if Helen was struggling with the words, like they were too thick and were sticking to the back of her tongue. She looked off to the side briefly and when her brown eyes came back to meet Carol's, there was a glisten to them. It was hard to believe that Helen Basch was actually tearing up a little. "I know it seems completely psycho, everything that happened. And it's no excuse. All I can say is that I'm sorry now."
The whole thing seemed surreal. Never in her life had anyone given her a proper apology, not a heartfelt one at any rate. There had been a lot of empty promises, loads of excuses, and a moderate amount of begging from Merc anyway. In retrospect, it was really pathetic and she was naïve for falling for them all. Maybe she was stupid for falling for this one too. Oh god, Beverly was going to murder her for this!
Carol swallowed nervously and nodded quickly. "Okay, um, I'm sorry too for lying and all that. But that wasn't really what I wanted you to tell me."
There it was. A miracle! A major scientific breakthrough! Carol couldn't quite believe it herself. Helen Basch: speechless. It must be some sort of record. After spilling out a whole bunch of deep, personal feelings, Helen was just shot down—in a way. Part of her was pleased with herself for this accomplishment. Then there was the niggling part that felt a little bit bad about it. She attempted to hide both of these reactions.
"Oh. Right…" She could tell Helen's mind was whirling with possibilities. It was a little unnerving how quiet the room became after a while. There was the sound of breathing of course, and the drip-drip of a faucet that hadn't been properly twisted off in the bathroom. The problem was that Carol wasn't really sure how to proceed from here. Did she give a hint? Did she just let it go? Helen wasn't going to forget, she knew that much. The older woman would likely dwell on it, silently, all night long wondering what the real demand was. Was it totally fair to do that? Nah, probably not but Carol figured maybe it would be a good thing for Helen to be the one in the dark for once, to be the one who didn't know the proper thing to say. Yeah, Helen definitely was squirmy now.
It was so fucking weird having the power.
A puzzled frown cracked her face as Helen kept trying to assess the situation. "Did you mean… physically? 'Cause in that case, my stomach is in knots. Like cramps, maybe it's just indigestion from the Mexican earlier."
"Ew." No, Carol certainly had not meant literal physical feelings.
"My heart is pounding faster than normal. My hands are shaking."
The blonde looked down and reached for Helen's hands, holding them in her own. "No, they're not."
"Well, they feel like they're about to fall off."
"I really don't think—"
"I love you."
Wham! Even though the words were said quietly, they hit Carol head on and quite unexpectedly, and she stopped for a moment, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. She didn't realize at first that her fingers were clenched too tightly around Helen's palms, her short nails digging into soft flesh. "Wha-What?"
Of course she had expected the words; she had wanted to hear them. She just didn't expect it to sound so vulnerable and quiet. Helen was always so sure sounding, her voice unwavering and sturdy, like it had been in San Diego when she initially had hinted at it. And that's it: vulnerable. As if someone else on the planet was actually capable of hurting the indestructible Helen Basch. It was obvious people were capable of pissing her off, getting her angry and indignant, and plain getting under her skin. But hurt? Carol didn't know it was actually possible until now, and she hadn't any idea that she, little old perpetual Number Two, had that ability. Power was a funny thing.
Helen pulled her hands away, clasping them tightly together and letting out a spluttering laugh. "I love you. I said it. You've heard it." She let out a long, worn-out sigh. "I've loved you for a while, you idiot."
"How long?"
Helen smirked. "Long enough. But not like a creepy amount of time, like you're probably thinking now. I had to get to know you first," she chuckled a little at the idea. "And, look, relax. I'm not asking you for anything in return. I don't want you to have a heart attack or something about saying anything to me. You wanted my feelings and I just wanted you to know where my head is at."
"Yeah, um, yeah." Carol stumbled over her words much more eloquently than she thought possible considering the complete tangled mess of her thoughts. Her heart was fluttering, quite possibly vibrating even, thumping wildly in her chest. It wasn't fear so much this time though; it was shock. How many years had she spent with Merc and the closest he'd ever come was an off-hand "Well, ya know how it is, baby." As if he wasn't even allowed to say the words. Now she realized he'd never said them because he had never felt them, and she should thank him for never feeding her that lie at least. And then she felt it building up in her throat. First a tightness in her chest, a pressure, a bit of a suffocating sensation in her throat, then a warmth spreading through her face, right up to the corners of her eyes. Oh god, it was just like that time Helen gave her the key.
Except this time she could breathe. Well, that was a nice change. For once. Instead, she blinked back the heat and allowed what could potentially be a smile to creep across her lips. Yeah, this was more like that happiness thing that had been so elusive for so long. Someone loved her. Like, loved her. And told her out loud and did things and was actually like, upset if she wasn't around. She was so used to being the one saying it and never hearing it back. This was an entirely new situation. Yep, it was totally different hearing the words directed at her. Fuzzy wouldn't exactly be the word to describe what she was feeling. There was some semblance of relief, maybe a bit of satisfaction, and definitely excitement. Something else though, something she could feel in her chest quite literally but lacked a name.
"I've never… No one has ever…" she started, very much feeling the same as she had with the fucking key, except obviously without the panicking and crushing sense of doom. And no hives, she noted with delight. No hives! It was a positive step forward.
"I know, no one has ever loved or treated you like an actual person before."
Ouch. Helen's words stung, mostly because there was a lot of truth in them and it was something she had only been able to see in retrospect. A shitload of retrospect. Like, Paleolithic retrospect. And now she had a glimpse at the modern world and it looked a lot like Helen Basch, half-naked on her bed, damp hair dripping onto her old t-shirt. She liked the modern world a lot. It was a place she could hang out for sure. After the wince faded from her face, she pushed forward, probably a little more vigorously than necessary and Helen fell back against the pillows.
It still was a wonder how this scary, domineering, top-tier executive of a multimillion dollar network relented so damn easily to her touch. Who was she? Nobody really and Helen just melted almost every time (except when she was really pissed off). It was like having some sort of secret superpower that no one would ever know about (except Beverly probably) and Carol kinda liked it that way. It was her thing. Her and Helen's thing, this weird sort of very private, very intimate power shift.
Yes, Beverly was likely going to push her off a cliff the next time they were to go hiking because to anyone else being right back here with Helen was a terrible idea for both her sanity and her career. But Beverly could jump off her own cliff really because it's not like she was the queen of good life decisions either.
She could feel the twist in her stomach that accompanied the electric tingle up the back of her neck and down to her toes as warm fingers wove themselves through her short hair. It multiplied exponentially as her lips met Helen's, maybe a little too eagerly. Her entire body relaxed into a hazy sort of dream where everything felt so good, and easy, and right. It always felt that way with Helen though, at least when they were like this. Together. It was sort of funny that the thing she thought would be the weirdest, most difficult adjustment was actually incredibly simple. In fact, all that romantic ideation she'd dreamt of, all the relationshippy stuff had been hard. It was still probably going to be hard but this? It was the easiest thing ever. She sucked in a shallow breath as her lips hovered above Helen before proceeding down her jawline, dipping into that soft warm spot just under her earlobe, and down a smooth neck. She could feel the pulse of blood if she kissed just the right spot. Helen's sharp intake of breath sounded deafening in the quiet of her bedroom.
As her thigh settled between two bare ones, she heard the low whine and pulled back to see the hint of a pout on Helen's face.
"This doesn't seem very fair, does it?" Helen asked pointedly, nodding down at Carol's entirely clothed body.
She thought about being cheeky, playing hard to get, continuing to draw out the game of demands from before. However, far more urgent was the need to feel skin against her own. "You're right. Let's even it out." Carol sat up, wrestling with her slacks as her fingers began to tremble slightly in anticipation. When she turned back to Helen, finally rid of her offending pants and evening the score, Helen was bare naked.
"Still not fair," she smirked, pointing at Carol's top. Her voice was the specific gravelly low sound that made Carol's toes curl and her pulse hammer rapidly with want. "Let me help you out."
Carol was pliant and more than willing to just allow Helen to slowly peel away every piece of remaining clothing. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to get used to this sort of thing. It's not as if she'd never done it before, but after 10 years of rushed, hushed, office sex with men, slow and sensual wasn't something she experienced all that often. Every puff of breath, every whisper of a touch, every little movement was felt with such intensity that Carol was wondering if she may end up spontaneously combusting from it all. Every inch of skin Helen ran her hands, lips or tongue against made her pant, every so often allowing a moan to escape.
"Don't hold back, baby," came a groan against her collarbone as Helen planted a kiss in the divot in the centre. Right, I'm allowed to make noise. No one was there to tell her to be quiet or cover her mouth with a hand (She could still see Beverly's complete revulsion when Carol had told her about Castor's tendencies). Carol had to constantly remind herself about that fact, especially that Helen seemed to get no greater satisfaction than making Carol hoarse by the end of it all. And the laughter. Could that actually be the best part? Carol had no idea that it was possible to laugh and have actual fun so often in bed. If things tickled, she laughed. If they felt good, she hummed. And if they felt fucking amazing, she screamed. Really eardrum-shatteringly loudly. And damn, that made it all that much better.
As Helen crawled up her body, Carol shifted back and lay back against the pillows, grabbing at toned arms and looping her fingers through the soft brown hair. She would be lying if she had ever pretended that she hadn't been heartbroken 3 weeks ago, or that she didn't miss this togetherness (It wasn't just the amazing sex. She missed everything). It was like a drug coursing hard through her veins and the weeks apart, flirting and fucking around in San Diego hadn't really assuaged the withdrawal she'd felt at her loss. Judging by Helen's eagerness, she'd felt the same. Her hips rolled against a thigh and a strangled sort of sound bubbled up from her throat at the contact. There was the tickle of a smile against her neck as Helen continued her journey, snaking a hand down between her legs.
Yeah, she probably hadn't even needed to consider voicing that demand from before because she was pretty sure that at this rate, she would forget her own name in about 10 minutes.